


What We Do In the Shadows

by God0fRa



Category: Jacksepticeye Power Hour (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Brainwashing, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Murder, Mystery, Not Beta Read, Torture, Violence, cameos of others - Freeform, couple random characters for fillers, eye gore, mentions of those like Seán Mark Ethan Wade Kevin etc, not graphic but present, only with the egos mind you, will include child violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29434032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/God0fRa/pseuds/God0fRa
Summary: Jackie Jasper, a well known detective taking on cases of serial killers and murderers, has found his match against this mysterious killer. When Chase's wife, Stacy, becomes the next victim, it becomes far more personal than he could ever think. Time is limited and he knows many others will become victims to this twisted killer's games and the numbers will grow if he does not put an end to their reign of terror. But can he deal with what will come, can he save Stacy in time and bring this sick bastard to justice? Or will it all become too much for him to handle. . .
Kudos: 5





	1. The First Clue

Boring. Dull. . .

“ _You have a whole week this time, Mr. Jasper.”_

None of them ever gave the right thrill as the first one. They always say the first is the most memorable, and so few can hold a torch to it. Sad that is went down ever so quickly after that. Each one so dull with the opponent he plays against, all these people boasting about their skills and their luck until they go against him. When they face off against him, they always end up running with their tails between their cowardly legs. A game is only so much fun without somebody to oppose that can hold their own against the odds.

“ _This should be plenty of time to rescue her. And I know how quickly you will act. . .”_

At least some spark of entertainment has returned, something that brings life to soil believed to be long infertile. After besting PI and police officer one after the other, it seems they got desperate. As if the corrupt American justice system, or any other system in the world could stop him when the past ones could not do shit to him. The gloating, the direct mocking and taunting to their faces and they still could not throw him into jail. Poor fools could never figure out who the culprit was with solid concrete evidence. It was clear as the skies in Ireland during the rainy season.

_“. . . especially when this is the mother of your godkids.”_

And then they brought in Mr. Jasper. Jackie Jasper. Oh, the real storybook detective minus the alcoholism and smoking two packs of cigarettes in a day. A native from his own homeland, this Jasper character had gotten more done than any other phony. 

“ _Though, maybe you should be praising me for getting rid of such a bitch. Afterall, look at how much she’s dragged your dear friend through the mud.”_

But oh, Mr. Jasper brings so much more fun into the game. How quickly he can catch on to the tricks, almost being able to save the last one he took. None of the other police officers or detectives or private investigators could even get an ounce of sense from the hints they were given to lead to the victims. All except little Jasper. It is not like he makes the clues that hard, in fact they can be obvious when one looks underneath the obvious. So few have the critical thinking to delve deeper, to understand the underlying. Maybe if they understood that, they could have saved more lives and not just the ones taken. 

“ _Maybe this time you’ll save her. But alas, that comes with another price.”_

It is a wonderful tango to dance with this detective, jabs done back and forth with each other, such an intimate encounter even if the poor detective is not aware of who he is. This is all such a fun game, watching them squirm and scramble like little mice trying to find the end of the maze, unaware of the guillotine poised at the end or the poisoned cheese.

He never loses, and he will make sure he never does. There is always an escape plan ready, backups just in case somebody could find a way to close in. He would not be good at what he does without having backups. Part of him wishes they would find him, just so he could try out those plans.

“ _I’ll make you a deal. I won’t even visit her for one of my. . . sessions. Just to keep her fed and watered for the day of the slaughter.”_

Each video he sends are cryptic clues to where his darling little victim is being held, always different from the last but such areas right under everyone’s noses. Always some other sap killed as fodder for the perfect hideaway for the victim, to ensure it is not an easy to find location. It would also be so enjoyable toying with them, shattering their minds to be purely afraid of his presence, doing everything he says out of fear. So many he has enjoyed shattering their psyche and making them into little playthings, even once getting the person to be a little suicide bomber to take out a police car. Such fun having the dirty work done by others.

But not this time.

He needs to spice things up a bit. Alas, there is always a plan in place just in case some little snot-nose decided to get in the way and try to bypass the games.

“ _That is if you do not put the little kiddos into protective custody. They go off the radar, so does mommy._ ”

That is why he went more personal to the detective. Hit him right where it hurts. So deliciously malicious! It is high time he upped the stakes, to play a deadlier game with Mr. Jasper. And so many others to hurt along with it makes the deal even sweeter. The more damage, the better.

“ _And don’t think I’ll be taking a break while she’s missing. The game still goes even if you have a side quest. It all leads up to the final boss. Look forward to my next contact, hero boy, hopefully on the next step to saving her.”_

* * *

If he got any more of these damned videos, the department would have to get a whole hard drive dedicated to the case files and the videos themselves. His computer is not a small one, it is rather a beast when it comes to processing and memory, plus a storage that could hold a teenage boy’s porn collection and then some, but this bastard has been busy.

Within the span of a few months already this mysterious killer has killed fifteen people. Each victim would be prefaced with a video left at their place of residence, the first part of anywhere from one to five clues to find their location and a set time to find them. If they failed to find the person in time, they would get a final video that gave them either the place their bodies are at—usually a place of significance for the family—or once, right on top of the chief’s desk. The last one had been cocky as hell, the poor victim left right of Chef Surhoff’s desk. A day later the man resigned. One by one they had been picked off, resigning, or breaking from the pressure that they go on leave or never come back for the next shift. This bastard knows how to hit them hard, to make them writhe and squirm until they break.

It is all one giant headache for anyone involved save for the twisted fucker doing the killings. This is all just a game to him, a warped, horrifying game that takes real lives away. How long will he run around before he is finally put down?

A cup of coffee comes into his view, glancing up to see who had placed it, “What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be at home?” Rubbing his hand against tired eyes the cup is still, nevertheless, picked up and cradled, “You could have waited until tomorrow.” He cannot blame the other for being uneasy. This is his wife afterall.

“I need to know, Jackie. I know she hasn’t been the nicest to me as of late, but I still love her—she’s still the mother of my kids.”

“Understandable, Chase, but you still can’t work yourself up about this. You need to be strong for Grayson and Trey.” Jackie reminds, “I heard they were spending time with Marvin today.”

Chase gives a sorrowful frown, “Yeah. Grayson couldn’t stop asking Marvin when Stacy would be back.” She has been gone for two days now, but they had just received the tape today—that means they have a week starting that same day. So, technically they have six days to find her alive or they will find her dead in eight days. Usually a mocking video would be sent of the victim on the final day, directly to the office with the source being where they would find the body after breaking through the encrypted data. He can still remember the video from the last victim, his young eyes pleading for help that would not be able to reach him in time.

" _You had your chance, now this poor boy gets to suffer. Such a future he had, but too bad nobody came to rescue him._ " That jeering voice never gets out of his skull, the same heavily manipulated voice that is a higher pitch than most other manipulated voices killers would use.

“Have you watched the video yet?” The question is asked, but the real purpose is unspoken.

Yet, Jackie knows, “We’ve got a week to find her. I was about the listen to the last part for the first clue.” He hates how much of a game this killer makes it, just a wild goose chase to make them stumble and scramble like pigeons in a park! “The problem is. . .” he leans back in his chair, the soft groan of metal against plastic, “He made it clear that if the kids go into protective custody, Stacy is dead.”

“What?!” Such news is expected not to be taken lightly, “You can’t put either of them into protective custody without risking her being killed?!” Chase has never been on this side of the law, always hearing about some of the goings on from Jackie, but never being involved directly like this, “What the hell does that mean?” Jackie can quickly tell the anxiety rising in his friend, the clenching of fists and the darkness overtaking his eyes. Not that he can blame Chase, if Jackie was in his shoes he would probably be having a breakdown. There is also a mental note to text the rest of the gang to keep and eye on Chase for the next few weeks. He has been beating his alcoholism for a few months now, and this is a prime time for that to rear its ugly head again.

“That means I’m going to be around a bit more on my time off. He said they couldn’t go into protective custody; doesn’t mean they can’t be protected by their godfather. As you know—” trying to lighten the mood a bit, Jackie puts on his best Italian accent, “—nobody messes with the family.”

It at least gets a small snort and a cracked smile from Chase, “That accent was horrible.”

“Like you could do better.”

A wave of laughter spreads over the two of them, slowly dying back into the uncomfortable silence. It feels horrible that their conversations and times together have led to standing around Jackie’s desk with a video that is their only hopes of finding Chase’s wife. Everything seemed so simple until Jackie took up these series of cases. This man—if he could even be called such a thing—never made things personal in the past, but to be fair as well nobody ever got close to matching him as Jackie has. He is upping his game because he has an opponent that can challenge him. This bastard is escalating which is not good. He is growing more cocky with every opponent he beats and he wants to make sure they are beat far into the ground. Kinda reminds him of how competitive Henrik can get when they play PvP games.

“I should probably finish up this video, figure out what the first clue is—” Jackie breaks the silence, setting the cup down upon the mahogany surface.

“Let me help.” The statement comes out quicker than either could react to it, “Please!” Chase moves to the other side of the desk, blue eyes pleading his childhood friend, “You said the clues had something to do with the person’s life. If that’s true, I know a lot about Stacy.”

Maybe it would not hurt to try. The detective sighs, “Fine, but any of the work going out to places will be done by me.” He knows this killer is also notorious for making things difficult to get the next clue, a perfect example was the pit of snakes that was where the last one had been. The clever bastard had gotten a room in the hotel the last victim had spent his time in the city when visiting his family and made it so nobody entered and padded the walls so people would not hear all the hissing. Unfortunately some poor hotel staff member entered and died slowly to the poison. That was the day before he had figured out the clue and they had arrived at the place.

Chase nods and pulls up a chair to get a good look at the screen as Jackie pulls up the window of the video again, "Fine by me."

Unlike the other videos, this one had a sort of introduction to it, a screen that simply showed the outline of a person, no clear features present and the voice still put through layers of editing to make it impossible to undo and fix the original one. He knows it is not an AI generated voice, this killer is that good with audio that he can manipulate it enough to be untraceable.

Oddly enough, despite the lighting, Jackie swears he can see the man’s eyes, a green one and a blue one. If this is a trait of the killer, it is one that will make his capture much easier when they can finally get their hands on suspects.

The clip resumes, ending in a deep chuckle before quickly changing to that of a completely black screen. It settles to only static, something else playing but drowned out by the white noise. Jackie makes a note to send that audio to the specialists to see if they can isolate what is behind the white noise. Nothing that is within these videos are a coincidence.

Then, the voice comes back, “ _Such a silly thing love can be, so fleeting but so strong at the same time. Wonder how this bitch felt the first time she experienced that feeling but realized it was all wrong. How many times did she fall in love before she found dear little Brody? I wonder if she ever told him of her past experiences._ ”

Jackie frowns at the words, “I thought you and Stacy were the first loves of each other?”

Chase shakes his head, “She always told me I was her first love. She did have some other guy try to date her but she didn’t click with him.”

If that is the case. . . “Where did she first meet this guy?”

This takes Chase a moment to think, “I think it was the cemetery near Cresthill. She told me he had approached her after her grandmother’s funeral.” Not the most charming way to try to ask a girl out, but not everyone could be as smooth as Marvin’s way of flirting.

“First thing they open tomorrow, I’ll head there.” He takes on a stern look to his companion, “But you need to go home, Chase. It’s almost nine at night, you need to be with the kids otherwise I’ll be investigating Marvin in the murder of you for making him go overtime.” A sympathetic smile is given as the other stands up, “Get him up to date on things and I’ll text you in the morning if I get anything.”

“Thanks Jackie. I know you will do everything to find her.”

“I would do nothing less.”

As Chase walks out of the office, Jackie leans back in his chair. Why would this killer get so personal?

“ _And Jackie_. . .” It startles him to hear the audio directly address him, thinking that he had paused the video, “ _You know what they say. . . keep your friends close and your enemies closer._ ” Without another utter or flicker of sound, the tape ends.

"'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer'. . .?" That is a phrase he is familiar with. It is often spoken by villains, a way to say they are getting close to their enemies to take them out quicker. But why would that be said?

Could it mean the killer is somebody he knows?

* * *

As his car pulls up into the driveway, Chase notices the subtle sway of the curtains as if somebody had been peeking from behind them to look outside. A sign that he could be greeted with a rather unhappy magician or two very excited children. However, judging by the time being nearly ten at night, it would most likely be the latter.

Within moments of stepping inside, he is confronted by said magician, “Where the feck have you been?!” There is a mixture of annoyance and concern, “Your kids wouldn’t stop asking when you or Stac would be coming back.” He runs fingers through the long brown hair—for once not put up in a bun, “I finally got them to sleep with a little bourbon in their milk.” Marvin is not the best with children, but he had days where he could be good at taking care of the Brody kids specifically.

“Marvin!” Chase gasps, barely dropping his jacket onto the hook in the closet, “You did **not** give my thirteen-year-old and six-year-old bourbon!”

The other grins, “Maybe I didn't, maybe I did. It's not enough to make them drunk if I did. My grandmum did that to me all the time when I wouldn't go to sleep, and I turned out fine.”

Not sure he would use fine to describe the other, and not normal either for the methods his grandmother would use. Marvin himself came from a different background than the rest of them, a small town in Ireland that still practiced old ways, including the arts of magic—not like the stuff from things like Harry Potter but more natural magic like crystals, alchemy, and herbs.

Marvin's grandmother was an odd woman but sweeter than anyone else Chase had met. All of them would receive gifts wrapped in the same golden ribbon on their birthdays from her. She was also the kind to make sure they were all well even when they had just started being friends with Marvin—a few cups of herbal tea when they were sick or feeling off, a few gifts in the mail that she made herself that would help with their moods. She was a true grandmother to the whole group.

“Marv, don't take offense,” He chooses to brush off the half-assed glare from his friend on this one, “but I wouldn't use the word ‘fine' to describe you.”

“You’re right, when it comes to my looks especially, I'm far beyond ‘fine.'" Always a jokester and a flirt, even if it is done in a teasing manner with himself and their friend Henrik—teasing with those who are already in a relationship. Poor Jameson at first dealing with the flirting when he did not know how to react to it. At least now he teasingly does it back.

“But my looks are never in question. Give me the details on what's going on with Stacy. What did Jackie find?” His friend moves closer, eyes widening a bit with curiosity.

Chase heaves out a sigh, swiping off his hat and setting it on the bench nestled in the entryway, “It’s official. . . she’s been taken by _that_ killer.”

Mavin gasps, covering his mouth with a hand—words muffled behind it, “That one? The one with the videos?” The nod gets him to lower the hand slowly to reveal the deep frown, “I’m so sorry Chase. I know this is Jackie’s first time being on the case from the start, but he’ll be able to find her in time.”

It is not that he doubts Jackie’s abilities, he knows Jackie is one of the best around in the States and in Ireland, but this killer is not like the others. It scares him to think what this bastard could do to Stacy. He was never one to watch the news beyond what was going on in sports, so he never heard the full extent of this killer’s cruelty. Only what he gets from Jackie’s vague descriptions is what he hears, and even the nebulous details make him shudder in fear and disgust. The worst parts are thinking about the pain the person went through until the end. It seems this killer bounces between Ireland, the United Kingdom and State-side for his killings with no clear method to why he changes.

“I really hope so. . .” He sighs, shaking his head, “But seems Jackie is already working on getting the first clue down. Tomorrow he’s visiting the Cresthill Cemetery to find it.”

Marvin scrunches his nose in confusion, “Why there?”

“The clue said he would find the next one where Stacy met somebody and thought it was love but turned out to be wrong.” It is an odd wording, but he only repeats what the recording said.

The other hums in thought, tapping a finger against the bearded chin, “’What she thought was love but turned out to be wrong’? That does sound like the time that guy approached her. But. . . nah, never mind.” He shakes his head, stepping up to place a hand on Chase’s shoulder, “I should get heading out anyway. Stay safe, alright? I wouldn’t be surprised if the fucker is going to try something even if he’s busy doing the shite he does when having a captive. If you ever need help, just give any of us a ring and we’ll happily help.”

“Thanks, Marv, that means a lot.” There is a reason they are all so close, a tight knit family of friends who are often mistaken for being brothers. They have been there for each other when nobody else would. He loves all of them like a family.

Marvin offers a smile before his phone rings, getting him to quickly pull it out and answer, “’ello?” He pauses before taking on a more friendly tone, “Hey! I was wondering the next time I would hear from you!” A wave is given to Chase as he heads to the door, continuing the conversation on the phone, “Here I was starting to think I scared you off with the flirting. Guess it takes more than a few compliments to woo you, huh?”

Slowly Marvin’s voice drifts into the distance, becoming undiscernible until vanishing completely.

Sometimes Chase is jealous of his friend, being able to freely flirt and get free drinks from others because he is single. Although, he does not regret dating and marrying Stacy. They have their ups and downs, but they still love each other.

He sighs, stepping further into the house and more specifically to the boys’ bedroom. Unfortunately, with his salary and the housing prices, Chase was only able to get a two-bedroom home which meant the boys had to share a room when over visiting. Even at thirteen, Trey does not mind sharing a room with his little brother—the two are really close with each other. One day he hopes to get a better house, especially with his videos and podcast starting to really take off.

And it is nice to know they will be staying for more than just the weekend, but the reasoning is not what he wanted. What he wanted was for all four of them to be under the same roof again and not having to bring the kids here so suddenly. At least they are close enough to go to the same school, but it is still a jarring change. Even after Stacy wanted to have distance between them, she stayed in the same city just a decent distance away.

Quietly he cracks the door upon just enough to look in and see both boys nestled under the covers. It feels surreal to see them comfortably sleeping against the reality that lingers outside the home. Even so, he loves moments like this, especially now. This is the calm during the storm, an ignoring of the hell that is raining down slowly upon them outside these walls. He needs to protect them, to make sure they do not get dragged into this mess. . . which may mean at one point he will have to pull them out of school. . . It would be best. Even if he cannot put them into protective custody, if this killer is after something, he would not be surprised if the boys would become targets—promise or not, terrible humans like this killer would do it if it meant increasing his odds of winning.

“Dad?” A soft voice calls out, wrought with tired, “You’re home.”

Chase smiles lightly seeing Grayson lifting his head up, “Yeah, I’m home, Gray. Sorry I was out so late; you know how daddy and Jackie get sometimes.” There is a soft _hmn_ from his youngest, “You need to go back to sleep kiddo, you’ve got school in the morning.”

He pushes the door open enough to slip inside, walking over to his youngest and giving him a kiss on the forehead.

“Daddy?” Grayson looks up as his father pulls the covers over him to nestle him back into bed, “Is mommy going to be okay?”

It weighs down his heart to hear that so innocently asked. Grayson is closer to Stacy than Trey is. It is not surprising that is one of the first questions he would ask. But how does he tell his son they may not find her? How does he tell his youngest that she has been taken by somebody who has a perfect kill count?

“Of course, she’s going to be fine.” He reassures with a lie. Maybe if he says it enough, he’ll believe it as well, “It’ll take a bit, but she’ll be home soon. Jackie will make sure of it.” He gives another quick kiss to Grayson’s forehead before stepping back, “Now off to sleep with you.”

“Goodnight, daddy,” the youngest yawns before settling back into bed.

“Goodnight, Gray,” Chase echoes as he heads to the door—giving a quick goodnight kiss to Trey’s forehead before leaving the room.

He lied to his kid. After Henrik’s help finding a good therapist and his support system growing he thought the lies would stop. They were never truly harmful lies to the kids but harmful ones to himself, lying to them if he had been out drinking or not. This lie is to protect them from the horrible truth. They are young, they should not be learning about such terrible things happening to their own family. At least, not yet. Eventually he will have to tell them the truth. . . especially if Stacy is not found in time.

How could he tell his kids that there is a high chance they’d never see their mother again?

Chase quietly works his way to his own room, passing by the bathroom. As he goes by, there is a pause before looking back in.

On the bathroom counter is a business card—or something like it. The card is a metallic black that gleams in the light and the details in a vibrant green. He steps into the darkened room, picking up the card. It is made of a thick material, the surface holographic with a sort of wiring pattern on it and the text almost seems to be glowing.

Marvin must have left it. The man always had some weird things he brought around with him, and he would not be surprised if Marvin were involved in other strange things.

“Aneirin?” That is the only name that sits on the card, no surname. However, it is odd why Marvin would have the card. On the black surface there is the title of “programmer, hacker & more" before the phone number is listed.

Why would Marvin need somebody who specializes in computers when he rarely ever uses his laptop? He shakes his head, holding onto the card and pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Marvin.

[ BroAverage ] hey u left a card here

[ BroAverage ] u want it back

The phone is pocketed without waiting for a reply. It does not matter if he replies tonight since it is late enough going out would be unwise. If he wants the card it can be delivered to him in the morning.

His phone is placed upon the bed before he moves to the dresser. The card is placed atop it as he moves to get his pajamas.

His nightly routine is cut short when his phone starts to vibrate from a call as he pulls out the pajama bottoms—opting out of a shirt since it is warm enough this night to not need it. The music that starts playing is a cue to who is calling.

“Marv?” Chase answers, putting the phone on speaker, “What’s up?” 

“Hey, can you give me that number that was on the card?” Guess it could not wait until tomorrow, “I’ve been needing to contact that person for a while now and was planning to do it tonight. You know how I am, if I don’t do it while I’m thinking about it, it will never get done.”

“Uh, sure.” He pulls his phone over to himself and heads to the dresser top he had placed the card. After giving the number he turns back to his bed, “Hey, Marv? Can I ask why you need a hacker? I thought you never used your laptop unless it was for small gaming sessions with us.”

“A-ah,” why does he sound nervous? “Well, you see. . . I’ve been really bad about getting presents to you guys over the last few years—especially with Seán—and especially the time I vanished for about a year. So, I decided since Seán’s birthday is coming up I’d do something special. He has been complaining about his computer starting to give out.”

“This guy builds computers as well?” Chase gapes, “Jeez, jack of all trades and master of none.”

“I wouldn’t say that. He’s said to be amazing with technology. It was Mark who recommended him to me. Said he had spent some time with the guy talking computers and he bragged about a build he did that impressed Mark.” Well, if the man who built Ol’ Faithful recommended somebody, then they must be good, “So, I wanted to hit him up and see what it would cost to build Seán a new computer. If it’s too expensive, you wanna join in for the gift?”

“Sorry bro, I’ve already got him a gift, but I did hear Henrik was suffering a bit on finding one.” Aside from the fact Henrik is always busy with work, he is not the best gift giver in the world. He would need the help with ideas since Seán’s birthday is coming up quickly.

“I’ll go shoot the good doc a text then,” Marv nearly purrs his words, “Alright, I’ll let you get to sleep. G’night, Chase.”

“Night, Marv.” Chase hums before ending the call, placing his phone on the nightstand beside his bed. The pajama bottoms are slipped on after taking off his jeans and the shirt discarded on the nearby chair. After the wild rid of today, he is happy to settle down into his bed and get a good night’s sleep—if he can that is.

The slight cold from beneath the sheets is welcoming, an ideal condition for falling asleep. It does not take long for him to get sleepy, not even bothering to use the usual solitaire app on his phone to get tired.

Gently he drifts off into sleep, a surprisingly restful night free of terrors or nightmares. This may be one of the last times he gets such restful sleep, nights where he is unaware of those eyes watching him from the corner of his room.

* * *

The light is barely bright enough to see, cloaking the surroundings in darkness. Her head throbs, agony pounding against her skull with every pump of blood into her head. What even happened that brought her here? She cannot recall. No natural light shines down to give her an idea of what time of day it is, nor any sort of clock around to give her the time.

The surrounding area has enough light to give her some indication of the room around her. There are outlines of objects, mostly cardboard boxes stacked high in a corner with a plethora of them opened but not at an angle that she could see anything inside. None of them have anything sticking out from the top, no labels able to be discerned in the dismal light. Aside from that there is a large table pushed on the wall opposite to where she is stuck, a few things sitting atop it but once again thing she cannot discern from the darkness surrounding. She can also see there are no windows, no glass panes to reflect the abysmal light. It is a barren room, cement walls circling the room and the ceiling seeming to be unfinished save for some insulation placed in the rafters. This room is unfinished, especially with the pipe that runs outside the wall behind her.

How long has it been since she has been trapped here?

The last thing she remembered was heading out to the store to get some supplies for dinner that night. She wanted to make something special for the family, to make Chase’s favorite dinner. That night would have been when she would explain everything, would have apologized for her temper and the troubles they had been going through. She had been going to therapy in secret, finding out there was more problems than she thought, and solutions found. She was feeling better and wanted to make a surprise. She wanted to make things right.

But. . . Not like that matters now. This happened before she could tell him. And now she is all alone.

She is completely isolated.

Until a door opens, and footsteps bring somebody down is she completely isolated. Down. She is downstairs. At least she knows a bit more about her situation.

When she sees the man, a gasp leaves cracked lips, “You. . . you’re—”

“Ah, ah,” he interrupts, walking over with a ceramic bowl in hand, “Let’s not go saying names, al’ight? I’d rather we just keep this short. . .” the bowl is placed down, what looks to be something like oatmeal with mixed fruits in it. Maybe it has been a long enough time that she is hungry enough to eat suspicious food. Not that it is suspicious since it is truly just a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries and peaches mixed in.

“I just came to make sure you stay alive.” He pulls out a bottle of water from his jacket, placing it next to the bowl, “I just have to keep up my end of the bargain with your dear friend, but that's just giving the food, not having you eat it. I couldn’t care less if you eat it or not. You’ll be stubborn anyway, just like always.”

Stacy glances up, eyes widening a bit, “What do you mean by that?!” Does she know this man more than just a small glance, a small introduction and then. . . something that brought her to this place, “How would you know how I’d react?!” How can she not remember anything? With how groggy her system feels it reminds her of the time she helped Henrik with a man passed out on the street: sedatives. Sometimes druggies would use sedatives instead of crack or weed since the police have really been cracking down on illegal drugs.

Did this man sedate her somehow? That would explain her loss of memory on and around the events leading up to now. How could he even get that close to inject it into her?

He simply chuckles, standing back up and going to observe her ankle that is shackled to the nearby pipe, “I know a lot more about you than you know about me, Stacy Brody. I’ve had time to observe, to watch and learn—not just about you but everyone else you hang around. You’re just a steppingstone.”

Stacy winces, feeling a hand take hold of her ankle. He is checking on the shackle holding her ankle, forcing her pant leg up, “H-hey! Don't get any ideas!” Her muscles tense as eyes settle on her—a gaze that shows a distinct lack of emotion. It sends chills down her spine, staring into those eyes that show no hint of emotion nor any plans of what he has for her.

His eyes. . . they are beautiful despite who wears the hues. A stunning, bright blue across from an acidic yet still dazzling green. Stacy recalls Henrik saying it was a condition called heterochromia that would cause one eye to be a different color than the other—some genetic thing. It was always hard to keep up with what Henrik talked about, considering she never finished high school, but it was still great to see how the doctor’s eyes lit up when talking about science.

“Don't flatter yourself. . . I have no interest in such things. You’re not my type anyway.” His hand pulls away once the shackle is confirmed to be firmly on her, “I don't go for married women or men in that way. . . as fun as it is to break up relationships it’s much too taxing on me to pretend that long that I actually give a damn.” There is something seriously wrong with this man.

He grins wide as he moves to standing in front, making her shrink back. It is like a predator mocking its prey before killing it, showing off those teeth that will tear into flesh, “In general, sorry hun, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry and you’re just the bait. I know little Jackie will figure out how to get to you. I made it a bit easier this time,” he shrugs casually, “Don’t want the fun to end so soon.”

“You want him to find me?” This does not make sense, not with what Jackie spoke of if this is the same killer he has been chasing, “Why would that make things better for you? Won’t that stain your perfect record?”

“Who said he’d find you alive?” The man snaps back, seemingly annoyed at the thought of losing his perfect kill count, “Or who said he’d find you in one piece mentally?” He squats down again, elbows resting against his thighs as those dangerous eyes watch her.

A hand reaches out, brushing smoothly through her hair—an action that makes her shudder in fear and disgust—this is an action Chase would often do to comfort her but it only brings negative feelings from this man, “I said I wouldn’t have my usual sessions with my victims but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a bit of fun.” A bit of fun? Stacy knows what fun means, but none of this falls under that idea.

In a flash of a moment a handful of hair is taken, yanked painfully at the roots to force Stacy to look directly at him, “You’re going to be the next part in finding the true victim. . . or perhaps I should say _victims_.”

Stacy struggles, trying not to keep eye contact with him. The more she looks into those eyes, the more she feels like there will be no escape. This bastard of a man has been doing this for far too long, knowing too well how to intimidate and make his victims submit even with a simple stare. Everything about him is haunting.

“Oh. . .” he leans in real close, breath reeking of cigarettes and something metallic, “It’s going to be a whole family event, don’t you know? I have a bone to pick with so many, and oh I do enjoy getting it all done in one go.”

Tears begin to stream down her face, from pain and sorrow as her struggles start to die down, “Please. . . just leave them out of this! Why would you want to hurt us?”

A chuckle is the verbal response, his face getting dangerously close to hers—sniffing at the tears that streak down her cheeks.

“Because Stacy. . .” He breaths out, moving to whisper something into her ear; something spoken so vile it makes her push him away, screaming in terror, cries mixing with pleas to stop what he is doing before it is too late.

And that makes the cackling louder, a high-pitched giggling fit to simmer into silence, “Just think, you could have a family reunion! Though. . .” he smirks, pulling out a silver blade, “You won’t give a damn anymore. When I’m done. . . you’re going to be a good obedient little puppet.”

A puppet? “I would never!” Stacy tries to get away further, pressing her body against the cold wall. Even so it gives no inch of distance as he swiftly closes in once again.

“Nobody ever does. . . that’s what makes it all the more pleasing.” The edge of the blade traces along her cheek, stopping to rest the tip of it just below her lower lip—closing in the distance to give her no space between his and her faces, “But don’t worry, in the end you won’t care.” Seeing that grin so close does not help the fear factor—nor the fact she can see his canines are sharp almost like a vampire’s.

He lets the touch linger a bit longer before standing up. All emotion drains from his expression and voice, the cold gaze narrowed on her, “Eat, this is the last time I will simply give you the food. Next time you'll have to work for it.” The man walks back towards the stairs, giving a small glance over his shoulder, “Get some rest. . .”

A small ring gets him to hum, pulling out his phone, “Tch, always the worst times. . .” He raises it to his ear, heading up the stairs, “Hello? Yes, you got the right number. Uh-huh? Yeah. Yeah, it’s a bit late but I can give you some information off the top of my head. Yeah, the rumors are true that I deliver on time without any problems. Yes, I do get very cross if you don't pay, who fucking wouldn't? I have to smuggle this shite past police, so yes, I have a high price, but I get the job done.” The door slams shut, leaving her to cry softly in the darkness.

Stacy's body shakes, some desperate attempts to get the shackle off her leg but to no avail. Every yank gets her nowhere and makes her head hurt more with each jerking motion. Finally, she gives up, slouching back against the support beam behind her.

She softly whispers through sobs, “Chase. . . I'm so sorry. . ."


	2. Up the Anti

It is to no surprise waking up to multiple text messages. On normal days he would have notifications from all sorts of places be it text messages, emails, or social media sites. This morning, it is text messages from his friends. Probably Marvin talking about what he got from that guy and Henrik checking up on him. There could be a chance one is from Jackie, but he could not have gotten information yet since the cemetery does not open until ten.

What is not odd is waking up to the side of his bed cold from the absence of a warm body laying beside him. The arguments started not too long after they moved from the States, something they had both agreed on but there were some reservations about it on Stacy's side that were unspoken. Eventually, it lead to them separating, not yet calling for a divorce, but time away from each other to give Stacy space to think about things. It still does not make the fact he is waking up alone any better knowing she is suffering where she is. Chase has no doubt she would not be sleeping well wherever she is at. Sighing, he swipes and types in his password to boot up his phone.

When blue eyes notice the time, he nearly chokes on his saliva. Eight in the morning?! Trey and Grayson need to get brought to school!

Chase throws off the covers, swiping up the same pair of pants from yesterday and a new shirt before running into the bathroom. Fuck, it would look so bad if he failed on the first day to keep their schedules the same. They need this semi-normalcy for the days when it would all be but a dream of the past. This is the first time since a month after they moved that he would be taking the kids to school. For just a bit over a year now he had only ever been around the kids on the weekends, taking them back to their mother's house on Sunday afternoons. Now, he has to adjusted to it all, including the early morning waking up to get them ready and to school in a timely manner.

It was surprising he got any sleep with how much he is worried about Stacy. Though, could be sleep avoiding, JJ said that was a common symptom of depression and it is no secret that Chase suffers from depression. Even if it is not Henrik's specialty, he has often lectured his dear friend about the dangers of sleep avoiding, especially the fact things like this will not simply disappear with time, they just get worse.

He furiously brushes his teeth, pulling up his pants while doing so and slipping his shirt on just after spitting out the used toothpaste. A breath is taken, washing his mouth with water, and spitting it out to work on calming himself. He cannot show how badly this is affecting him, he cannot let it infect the kids as well. He needs to be strong for them. Pulling out a comb from the drawer—and ignoring the pang of sorrow seeing that one of Stacy’s brushes is still in there as well—he does a quick brush through of his hair. He really needs to get the mess of brown hair cut soon; it is getting excessively long. He glances into the mirror, hating how dark the bags under his eyes are becoming, the stress continuing to pile up and up. Some extra water is splashed onto his face, cold enough to banish away that last bit of sleep clinging to his eyes.

Finally looking presentable, he places the comb on the counter and heads into the hallway. As he walks, he works to put the longer parts of his hair up into a messy bun, leaving a few to act as bangs swept to the side across his forehead. This is one of the few ways that helps tell the group of them apart, especially from Seán or Jackie who have a similar hairstyle—except Jackie’s hair is a bit darker and Seán puts all his hair back into a bun.

At least before he gets to the kitchen, there is a glance to the room—a sight of the boys not in there. Hopefully, that means they are already up and ready for school and not hiding somewhere or. . . Chase shakes his head, ignoring the last thought. There is no way the killer could be cocky enough to take the children the same night the whole police force would be put on high alert. It is just the paranoia talking.

He exhales a breath when he sees both Grayson and Trey at the kitchen counter, both munching away at their bowls of cereal. Trey pokes at the small remnants in his bowl while Grayson shoves a large spoonful into his mouth. Everything is fine, at least in regards to the three of them at this moment in time.

“Look at you two,” Chase smiles, seeing the boys beam as he enters the kitchen, “Ready hours before your dad is.” He takes up a mug before adding the beans into the coffee maker. He turns, facing the two boys at the counter, “Your school starts at nine, right?” Probably would be good to leave a bit earlier so the boys can hang out with their friends. That and Grayson was in primary school and Trey was starting his first year in secondary school, so they are at two different schools. At least the schools are not too far away, so he does not have to leave excessively early. It gives him enough time to make a cup of coffee and drink a bit before having to leave.

“Can you drop me off a bit early?” Trey asks, partially muffled by a spoon of the last bit of his cereal in his mouth, “I need to meet up with my friends for a bit of last-minute studying.” He shrinks away a bit at the glance from his father, placing the spoon down into the empty bowl, “I did study beforehand, but we want to get a bit extra in before the test. It's a huge important one.”

“You want to study?” It is not meant to be an insult to his son, it is just surprising that his son who disliked school back in the states was putting in extra time to study, “Who are you and what have you done with Trey?” Grayson gives a soft giggle at that.

The older brother looks away, mumbling, “I just want to make a good impression here. I almost failed back at L.A. and I don't want to disappoint you and mom.” There is something else, the father can tell with prior experience of suddenly wanting to do better in school, but he will not push it unless Trey wants to talk about it.

“In glad you have a renewed desire. School is not easy, trust me—I nearly failed a few times myself—but it gets easier once you know how you thrive.” Chase offers his eldest a smile, “I’m proud of you.” He must hold back showing the beaming happiness with how Trey's eyes light up with those four words. He really is proud of his kids, especially right now for taking their mother’s disappearance so well, or at least not letting it show on the outside.

A soft bubbling sound rises, the coffee pot filling with freshly brewed coffee, “We’ll have to leave in a few minutes then. I can drop you off first, Trey, then we can stop by your school, Gray.” The young boy nods eagerly, hopping off his stool before heading to the front hallway.

“Gray, you still got a few minutes, daddy needs coffee first!” He softly laughs as he calls out, heading over to the coffee maker and pouring a mug-full for himself. The quick patter of feet is a sign of Grayson coming over to him, and the tug on his shirt is a confirmation.

Chase is met with a small piece of paper in tiny hands, “I forgot, mom wanted me to give you this. I promise I didn't look at it either! I was good!” Grayson's smile is infectious. Even with the sadness that comes with the mention of Stacy it is drowned out by that infectious smile.

“You are truly good, kiddo,” Chase echoes the sentiment, gently taking the piece of paper. “I'll read it when I'm all alone, so you don't have any temptation to look.” He ruffles the kid’s mop of blond hair affectionately.

“Thank you,” Grayson lets his shoulders deflate, a similar action to wiping away sweat in relief that the stress is gone, “It was really hard not to look!”

“You’re a real hero,” the father nods, glancing to the clock on the wall, “Oops, looks like it's time to head out. Go get your backpacks, I’ll meet you guys at the car.” There is a quick response from both, Grayson running back to the hallway and Trey hopping off the stool and following his little brother. Quickly, Chase himself takes the two bowls and places them into the sink. They can be washed later.

Chase pulls out his phone, finally glancing at the messages he had received. As expected, the texts were from Henrik and Marvin.

Henrik’s are his usual checking up on how Chase was doing, and a condolence for the fact Stacy is missing. It is comforting to see such words, even if it does so little to help find where she is. He also apologies about the fact he will not be able to see him today since his shift should end around noon, but he is going to be taking the evening to catch up on sleep. At least Henrik is also looking out for his own health, but that is if he does not end up extending his shift at the hospital for some emergencies. No matter how many times the doctor rants to his friends about their own health, he is horrible at taking care of his own.

What does catch his eyes are the messages from Marvin, as well as the image sent. Marvin always had a habit of sending a slew of messages that could have been done in a single one, but he is not the best with technology.

 **[ TheMagnificent ]** Chase! U would not believe it!!!

 **[ TheMagnificent ]** I know u r asleep but still

 **[ TheMagnificent ]** I found another who looks like us!

Another one who looks like them? It was a surprise when they met Jameson, thinking that their small oddity stopped with just the group of them, but seems that is wrong. How could they have missed him for all this time?

 **[ TheMagnificent ]** the guy from that card I left

 **[ TheMagnificent ]** Look!!!

The image attached does not prove wrong. It looks to be a picture taken for a dating profile, or one somebody would post on social media like Instagram. This man wears a black hoodie with green accents, the hood up as brown hair is swept to the side with a green tint to the tips of the strands. He looks exactly like Chase himself, save for the bit paler—somehow he seems to be paler—skin and the same blue eyes Seán has.

In fact. . . he looks almost to be an exact copy of Seán with a few adjustments made.

 **[ TheMagnificent ]** don’t u think he looks a lot like Sean? 🤔

Well, at least he was not the only one to think that. Seán never mentioned having a sibling, but to be fair most of them looked the same but came from different families. Yet none of them could so strikingly look like one of the others as this guy looks to Seán. Chase had a different face structure compared to Seán plus his eyes are a bit paler and Jackie was just a bit taller than the both of them and had a bit more pronounced cheekbones. This guy has the same eye color, a hauntingly similar face shape with the only difference being a bit thinner like he is lacking a proper diet and a bit more muscular than Seán. Even so, he could still be the spitting image of their friend.

 **[ TheMagnificent ]** think I should talk to him about this?

Chase quickly taps on the bar beneath the messages, typing out a reply.

 **[ BroAverage ]** Id say wait maybe theres a reason Sean hasnt said anything

 **[ BroAverage ]** did the guy have a surname and give u that pic?

He shoves his phone into the pocket of his jacket, grabbing his hat before heading out the door. It is odd to think that there is another to their small group of looking and sounding alike. Him, Jackie, Marvin, Henrik, JJ and Seán all shared similar face shapes and voices with a few differences between them all from face structure to height to body build.

Henrik had his German accent, being raised in Germany to his father who was German, and his mother who was Irish. He keeps his hair a slight bit longer and parts it towards the middle—he hates having to wear it back, but it is required when he is at work—and has a slight green tint to his blue eyes. As well he was just barely taller than Seán, a bit taller than Jameson but shorter than the others with a lanky build. Despite the lanky build he could still lift as much as Jackie could.

Marvin has a slight bit of an English accent to his Irish one but still often uses Irish slang rather than British slang. His hair is a lot longer than the others’ and it is often partially up in a bun and always had the parts that do not go into the bun dyed different colors, teal being his favorite. And to set him apart his eyes are a teal color rather than blue, making him the one to stand out the most out of the bunch. That and he also stands the tallest out of them by a couple centimeters compared to Jackie, the second tallest. With his slightly larger height, Marvin has a similar lanky build to his body to Henrik but just a bit of muscle on his arms.

JJ is more like the others, being a bit hard to discern if not for his pale blue eyes and the semi-formal attire he prefers to wear. His hair is a bit shorter than everyone else’s and has an odd frosting at the tips that he swears is not something he does on purpose. Jameson is a bit different than the rest of them, aside from the fact he is shier than them and does not talk at all. Jameson himself has lived most his life in Britain, only recently leaving to live in the same city as the rest—Marvin had met him online and eventually JJ came to live closer. He has the similar build to the group, not so muscular and the shortest of the group. Not to mention he is the youngest of them by a year.

Jackie is often mistaken for Seán or Chase himself, only having a slight darker blue to his eyes and a bit of a darker brown hair. Like Seán, he pulls all his hair back into a bun and rarely wears it down. He holds his Irish accent strong even though he has lived in the States for a few years. Jackie travels the most out of them as well, often being called to the States to take care of high-profile cases that others could not solve. However, unlike the rest Jackie is on the muscular side of his body build, leaning more into the athletic build but is something expected after going through training camps to become a police detective.

And then Chase himself gets mistaken for Seán the most, the two looking as if they could be twins. The only difference between them is Chase has lost most of his accent, spending majority of his life in California and only returning when he and Stacy decided they wanted to live closer to their friends. It was fun sometimes to confuse people, taking off his hat and seeing if they could tell him and Seán apart. He is the exact same height as Seán, his slightly different eye color and bone structure being the only telltale sign of their differences, but could be difficult to tell without prior knowledge of their looks.

Now. . . there is this seventh person, another who looks like them, exactly like Seán to the point Chase had thought somebody photoshoped the picture—honestly, he still would not be surprised if that was the case. How could they go for almost a decade of knowing Seán without hearing any hint of a sibling or somebody who was so like him? Unless Seán is unaware of it as well. They do say everyone has somebody who looks exactly like them somewhere in the world, but he always thought that was bullshit—well, especially since it is somebodies who look like him but not to the point of being exact clones.

Chase shakes his head, ignoring the thought for now as he heads to the car, “Ready to go?” Both boys nod and he unlocks the doors, all three piling in with the young boys in the back.

As he pulls into the street, he glances back to his kids, “I hope you guys don’t mind but JJ’s gonna pick you up after school. I have work that needs to be done today that’s going to push me past the time you get out.” Not many would think his job of creating videos and the occasional podcast was as important, but it is his income.

“Yay, Uncle Jays!” Grayson cheers, wiggling in his seat, “I haven’t seen Uncle Jays for a few days. I want to learn more sign language from him.” His youngest beams, “There’s a girl in my class that can’t speak well, but she knows sign language. I want to be able to talk to her.” It makes Chase’s heart soar hearing his son wants to do his best to include others.

Trey remains silent for the moment, rummaging through his backpack to find something. He hesitates, eyebrows furrowing at something before returning to searching for his notebook.

“I’m sure he would be glad to teach both of you some more.” Chase replies. He knows it is hard for Jameson sometimes, being unable to speak in a world that is so focused on vocal socialization. At least there are programs set up that help people who are speech impaired so even at his job there are implementations to help him out. Even if Jameson cannot talk, he still is one of the best at the store he works at.

Probably one of the reasons he has such a fancy closet of clothing is because he works at a really expensive department store. Plus, being one of their best employees they seem to spoil the gentleman.

“I would bet his hand gets tired with all that writing,” Trey pipes up, joining in on the conversation after finishing his rummaging, “I hate it when they make us hand write a whole essay in school, I’d hate to have to write everything I wanted to say.”

This gets a laugh out of the father, “You would have hated school when I was young then. Computers weren’t exactly a thing everyone had at home, so we had to write up every essay along with notes on paper. It was a nightmare.” Those were the days of having computer labs where they would file into the rooms to learn how to type on brick computers that could barely run the basic version of Microsoft word, “But I do remember that little paperclip that would try to give you hints on Word.”

“The thing that’s a meme?” Trey raises an eyebrow, “I thought that was just a joke.”

“Nope,” he laughs at this, “Just another ancient thing turned into a meme.” There is a pause of silence as he turns the corner, lingering for moments longer before Trey’s school comes into view, “At least computers have become more accessible to kids.”

“Yeah!” Trey gives a small laugh, “Otherwise they wouldn’t see how cool our dad is or Uncle Seán and Evelyn.” Even if they were not truly related, every one of the others were called “uncles.” A happy family that seemed to be odd but everything Chase could have wanted.

“Yeah!” Grayson echoes his brother’s word, grinning brightly, “People find it way cool when I tell them my dad is the host of the Bro-Average Show and Podcast!” It is amazing to hear people enjoying the content he creates rather than ridiculing him. Ever since Seán was a guest on the podcast, Chase had been growing more and more popular, getting other gamers to join him as special guests. His dream quickly became a reality. To know that his life took a turn for the better makes this change all the worse—when things were looking up something else had to go and fuck it up.

The car comes to a stop, blue eyes glancing back to Trey, “Go rock the day, kiddo. And good luck with the test, I know you’ll kick butt.” His eldest gives a sheepish smile before unbuckling and heading out the door. As he leaves, the boy gives a wave back before mingling into the crowd of secondary school students.

Now to drop off Grayson, and then it is back home to work on a few videos.

“Dad?” Grayson’s voice gets him to look back at him through the rearview mirror, a few minutes passing since he dropped of Trey, “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, what is it, Gray?”

The young boy hesitates for a moment, fiddling with the straps to his backpack, “Do you really think mommy will be back?”

Ouch. Not the question he wants to be answering at this minute with his youngest, “Gray, she will be. I know it’s a bit scary with her missing, but she’ll come back.” He needs to figure out a way to tell them what is going on before he even makes any indication of what is going on to them. It is difficult to explain such a heavy thing to a young child, “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

“Alright,” Grayson nods slowly, looking away to try to hide his frown. One day he will know, but Chase cannot tell him now. The kids need to have a normal life, for as long as possible. He already has to deal with his parents being separated, he does not need this to make things worse.

“How about this, I’ll shoot Jays a text to take you two out for your favorite ice cream once he picks you up. How does that sound?” It may seem like bribery, but he wants his kids happy. And it is not like Jameson loves to spoil the kids like he is their blood-related uncle.

This does get the youngest Brody to perk up a bit, “I’d like that.” He smiles again, hoisting his backpack up onto his back as Chase pulls up in front of the school, “I’ll see you later, daddy. Good luck with your videos!”

Grayson nearly launches himself out of the car, eagerly running to the front doors of the school. He is always full of energy, something Chase finds being more and more envious of as he grows older. He is about to reach being 30 years of age, something everyone but Jameson has hit. It is scary to think he is that old already.

“Keep that spirit, kiddo. . .” Chase heaves out the sigh he has been holding for what feels like hours now that he is alone. The car moves a bit forward, finding a place to park before pulling out his phone again. He turns off the engine for now, not wanting to waste gas as he checks for any updates.

Another few texts from Marvin.

 **[ TheMagnificent ]** Nah never gave me a surname

 **[ TheMagnificient ]** Also!!! Call me when you have the chance

 **[ TheMagnificent ]** I thought of something and need to see if its correct

With a shrug, Chase rings up Marvin.

Immediately as the phone is picked up, Marvin starts going, “Okay so you know how you said that message mentioned the place where Stacy had first thought she was in love but was wrong?”

“Hello to you too,” Chase jokes.

“Yeah, yeah, hi. I’ve got bigger fish to fry than social etiquette,” Marvin huffs, disliking his trains of thought being derailed by anything, “But you remember that, right?”

“Of course,” how could he forget?

“Alright, so—” there is a pause, Marvin’s voice yelling something away from the phone, probably at one of his cats, “—sorry. As I was saying, so I was thinking a bit about that clue and how you said it would be Cresthill Cemetery.”

“Yeah, because it was where that guy flirted with her.” Chase states as if it is obvious.

“Tch, as if she would fall for that guy—I saw the pictures. But that’s my point! She never felt love for that guy. The recording thing—if you gave me the right words—said love **she** felt that she thought was right but was wrong. What happened when you two first met?”

It takes a moment for Chase to recall that time, it had been so long ago, “We met at school. I. . . I actually asked out her friend the first time we had met.”

“Exactly!” Marvin exclaims, a bit loud that causes Chase to push the phone away from his ear, “Stac did say she had a thing for you before you guys even personally met! It was the love she thought was there but turned out to be wrong—or what she thought was wrong!”

Shit. It all falls into place quickly, Chase widening his eyes in surprise, “Damn, Marv. Wait. . . how did you even know this?”

“Heh, come on Chase,” Marvin snorts, “You know I get information pretty quickly and besides the fact that friend you asked out was a horrible gossipy bitch and blabbed to me that Stacy was crushed. I don’t even know why Stac was friends with her, she was such a manipulative little fecker. Played sides just to get what she wanted and left when she was done using you.”

At least he did not end up dating her for more than a single outing and instead realized Stacy was the one for him.

“We’d better tell Jackie that information before he wastes his time at that cemetery.” Chase concludes. This is definitely information their friend should know as soon as possible.

“You can do the honors of that, but don’t take away credit where credit is due,” Marvin hums, “I’ve got a meeting with that guy for picking out the computer for Seán. Annndddd I might also see if he wants to go out on a date.”

Chase rolls his eyes, “Marv, seriously? Can you go five seconds without flirting with somebody?”

There is a pause of silence, “I could probably.” But he will not.

“Whatever you liar,” he teases, “I’ll leave you to your swooning. I’ll be productive and call up Jackie.”

“Toodles!” Without having a chance to say goodbye, Marvin hangs up.

Chase sighs, moving to his contacts to pull up Jackie’s number, “How the hell is Marvin so good at flirting when he’s got horrible social standards?” As his phone calls up the number, blue eyes start to wander around the surroundings, as well as his mind wanders through thoughts.

Something does make him wonder. . . if the place is where him and Stacy had met and is indeed their old school—the moment when they were visiting the secondary school in Ireland as part of a program with the high school in California—how did the killer know? How could the killer know these details of the past unless he had been there?

Does that mean one of his old classmates could be the killer? At least this would be another helpful step towards narrowing down on the suspect.

“Chase? What’s up?” Jackie’s voice pulls him out of the loop of thoughts, shaking his head slightly, “I haven’t gotten the chance to head to the place yet, so I have no updates for you.”

“I know,” Chase responds, “That’s why I’m calling you. I told Marv about the clue and he came up with some really good information. It’s going to be the secondary school we all met at, not the cemetery. That guy she met at the cemetery was somebody she never felt love towards—she rejected him immediately. But Marv reminded me of the time Amy asked me out in front of Stacy, and apparently that moment she thought her love was wrong."

“Shit.” Jackie takes a moment to comprehend the information, “Marvin came up with that?”

“Yeah, you know, after a whole ton of other blabbing. I can join you there if you’d like.” He knows the answer to the offer, but he might as well give it anyway.

There is another hesitation, “No, thank you for the offer but you need to keep yourself safe. This killer is not above laying traps to get to the next clue, so we’re probably going to have to evacuate the school. Do what you gotta do, I’ll send you any updates and if I need your help with the next clue.”

“Might be good to ask Marvin,” it is said as a joke, but maybe it would be good to get their friend on it.

It does get Jackie to laugh, “I may just do that if I can’t figure out the next clue.” The sound of pen scratching against paper is heard, “But I’ll get going now since this is urgent.” Urgent in the reasoning of needing to get kids out of there plus his godchild goes to that school.

Chase nods despite the fact it could not be seen, “Right. Good luck, bro.”

“Thanks.” _Click_. The line goes dead, Chase lowering his phone to let it sit on his lap.

One step forward, hopefully one that does not end with a backstep or two. He sinks back in his seat, glancing out the window. As he looks to the trees just beyond the boundaries of the school, he swears he could see somebody standing there. It is hard to tell, the person cloaked in dark clothing and partially hidden by the kids heading inside as the first bell would be ringing soon.

He cannot see their face, but it feels like they are watching him. Moments after noticing, the figure remains still before turning away.

“Okay. . . creepy.” Chase grimaces, his fingers brushing against the note Grayson handed him before they left. Maybe it is just some coincidence. He will chalk it up to that for now, but it will remain in the back of his mind. He needs to work on his videos, to have them prepped for today and tomorrow. That and. . . he needs to read the note when he gets home, but he will focus on something to lighten his mood rather than possibly sour it.

Starting up the engine he pulls back out onto the street and heads home. Maybe he will see if Seán wants to do a collab together or follow up with Kevin for a gaming session—or combine the two. A collaboration between the three of them could really be something epic for the fans.

* * *

“Yes, I am sure!” Jackie huffs, tapping his foot as he stands beside his car, “I have a good idea that this is where the next clue is. Yes, I am going to be searching it, but I would like backup nearby. This bastard in infamous for making traps around the next clue. I'll check in again when I have more.”

Hanging up, Jackie glances toward the school. It is concerning since this is the same school Chase’s eldest son goes to. He knows there was no promise from the killer that he would not target others, which could mean the kids could be in trouble. He does not want to take any chances with his godchildren.

Which means he needs to do recon to figure out where the clue could be before calling in the rest of the force that could be spared. The temporary chief, who is only a sergeant, is hesitant to bring in some of the force on a case like this. They are never certain if the killer will have a trap that could endanger others so confirmation needs to be given before the cavalry arrives.

He glances over, noticing a teacher staring at him a bit suspiciously. Why can people not keep their noses out of other people's business? With a sigh, he pulls out his badge, “Police, please move on.” The teacher looks concerned, but she heads to the main building.

Perhaps it would be better to go into the principle’s office to get a good idea of the land. He does not know this school well, Jackie himself went to a different secondary school. The principle would be able to tell any place that could be good to hide something. He knows that around this time most sports would only be training out on the fields and all sorts of drama or plays would be held off until the spring. There is a small certainty that the killer would use a place less visited.

Jackie checks his phone once more before heading towards the school. He has time, hopefully, to get a lay of the land and see if there are places that could hide the clue. They do not need to be a large place, perhaps even the locker of some student where the clue lays hidden, but that is less likely but not out of the question. Each step takes him closer, his mind starting to get lost into trying to quickly predict where the clue could be and what the trap could be.

Until something shudders the ground and the sound makes him tense up and brace himself. The area bursts into a bright light, his hearing erupting into a high-pitched ring. No. He knows that experience too well to mistake it for anything else.

He quickly dials up the emergency number, “This is detective Jasper! I need backup and ambulances at Colaiste Secondary School right now! We have an explosion, unknown casualties, get here asap!” The emergency worker on the other side quickly responds, giving the ETA of a few minutes.

Jackie shoves his phone back into his pocket before running straight toward the school. Did somebody find the clue? If a bomb went off that means the video could be lost! The traps never triggered unless somebody got close to the clue and the killer would make sure nobody else would find it but those who had the clue. He would not be surprised if the killer would return to those places to check up if the clue had been taken, but he would also not be surprised if a tracker were inside the USB drive containing the video to track if it is taken or not. It seems only a police officer could get their hands on the clue without any consequences going off the second they get too close.

Without another thought—his train of the thought interrupted by the screams of fear and agony in the aftermath—he runs forward, weaving through the small crowd that had formed outside the school. It looks like the explosion came from the auditorium. Hopefully, there was no activity going on at that moment and there will be minimal casualties.

“Everyone back up!” Jackie commands as he gets closer, a few people giving him looks while others recognize who he is and seem to relax a bit, “Emergency is on its way, but I need you all to get a good distance away in case there is another explosive set.” To reassure, he pulls out his badge for those not sure who he is.

One kid moves forward, his eyes alight with fear but also a hint of curiosity, “Is it that one guy?” The student glances to the others, looking back to Jackie, “Is it that killer you’ve been after?”

Jackie hesitates a moment, “I can’t quite disclose that right now, but if any of you have information about what happened please let me know.” He does not wish to get others involved in this, already so many have been injured or killed for knowing information. Somehow this twisted gobshite knew when somebody got information, and he did not like it.

Before he has a chance to further talk to the crowd as the sirens grow louder in the distance, a figure catches his attention—one that is partially covered by the rubble that was once the school. 

“Trey!” He ignores everything else, quickly running over. At least it looks like he was far enough away to not get seriously hurt, but he could have a damaged leg with where the rubble landed. No matter the amount, any damage would be bad enough; the poor kid has been through enough that this is just the icing on the cake of shit.

“Trey Brody, can you hear me?” Jackie quickly kneels next to his godson, shaking his shoulder. His heart skips a beat, watching as there is no movement for a moment before Trey coughs, “Oh thank god!” There is a moment to check the boy for any damages, and it is a relief when there are no visible wounds, “Trey can you hear me?” There could be damage beneath the skin or has no formed yet, plus who knows what is going on with his legs beneath the rubble.

“Uncle. . . Jackie?” Trey hoarsely speaks, tired blue eyes looking up, “Am I going to be okay?”

“Of course,” Jackie comforts him, running his hand through the brown hair, “Help’s on the way. I know your head probably hurts like hell, but can you tell me the last thing you remember?”

“There. . . there was a guy who looked really. . . suspicious,” Trey winces at the throbbing in his head, his ears still ringing, “Will went to follow the guy—” Will, that would be one of the security guards of the school, “—and then there was a bright light and a loud noise and. . .”

Jackie shakes his head, hearing the ambulances pull up to the school, “That’s good enough, Trey.” He turns his attention over, surprised to see a familiar face jump out of the back of one of the ambulances, “Lay your head down, don’t strain yourself.” He rests a hand gently against Trey's shoulder, trying to keep him still. The look of pain starting to rise onto the teen's visage makes Jackie's heart ache.

With confidence one of the doctors that came from the ambulance strides over quickly followed by an EMT, “Work with the police when they get here,” Jackie cannot mistake that accent, there is only one person in town with that accent, “Call in a few more units, it seems we may have a bit more than we can handle with just us. We need to assume things are worse than it appears.” The EMT nods before breaking away and going back to the group to relay the information and call in more.

The man picks up to a run, heading straight over and his expression grows concerned at seeing the scene, “When I heard there was a call about an explosion how did I know you would be here?” It is not the usual cheerful tone, but it is understandable. This is far from a cheerful situation.

He kneels next to Jackie, “Is he conscious?”

Trey blinks slowly, looking up at the two. His brain registers the other, trying to give a weak smile, “Uncle Hen?”

“That would be a yes,” he frowns, “Ja, I’m here. I’m going to have Jackie move the rubble off your leg, alright? It will most likely hurt but I can quickly assess the situation with it gone.” He waits until Trey nods before giving the signal to go to Jackie.

“Hold on kiddo, we’ll get you out,” Jackie reassures before working to heave the rubble up. It Is heavier than he thought, requiring holding it up as Henrik moves Trey forward enough to be out of the way. A strangled cry of pain comes from the young kid, gritting his teeth as feeling returns to his legs. Jackie heavily frowns as he sets the chunk of plaster down, moving back to the two.

Henrik quickly checks the leg, scowling at the damages, “You need to take a trip to the hospital. It looks like your leg is broken. I'll make sure everything will be okay, promise.” He turns, flagging down one of the paramedics with a gurney.

Those harsh eyes turn to Jackie, the stern gaze unsettling even to the hardened man, “What happened here?” Henrik is not stranger to the damages done by the killer Jackie chases after, the body count always involves Henrik somehow, usually being the one to operate and unfortunately lose the patient. Though, that is only as of late that Henrik has been involved since only recently have they found somebody who had a shred of life still in them.

The detective nods for them to back away to allow the paramedics to take Trey. Both head a few meters away, watching as the one had grabbed another to help him pick up the young Brody boy and put him onto the gurney. One of them will have to call Chase about this.

Once the paramedics are taking Trey to the ambulance, they focus on their conversation.

Jackie keeps his voice low, “I’m sure Marvin got you caught up in what’s going on. I was here to find the next clue that would lead me to Stacy.” The frown only worsens on Henrik’s face, “Trey said one of the school security guards went to follow a suspicious man heading somewhere. I bet it was somewhere in the auditorium.” He could recall that was a favorite space for Chase and Stacy to hang out and right nearby where their first exchange happened. Plus, since it is not around the time plays would be going on, there would be significantly less people in the space. The perfect spot to put the recording without people touching it.

“Great,” Henrik hisses, “I’m getting sick of having people in emergency room or the morgue because of this backpfeifengesicht.” Jackie wrinkles his nose as that word, “It is somebody who has a face that invites a slap. But still,” he glances towards the damages, grimacing further, “I wonder how many casualties it is this time. . .”

A few police cars pull up including a bomb disposal unit, plus the extra ambulances. Around them the officers work to push back the crowd in case of any other structural damages or extra explosives and collect any information students had while paramedics work to get any survivors free. It could be a lot worse if the device were placed in a more populated area, but that was not the intent. The intent of the explosive device was to add to the stress of Jackie retrieving the video.

At least it is not a large portion of the school, not a huge explosive used but enough that it will cause problems for the foreseeable future.

“He’s escalating, Jackie,” Henrik states flatly, glancing to his friend with half-lidded eyes, “Last time it was a hotel room with some snakes, the time before that was the possibility of dying from poisoning if you failed that game of Tetris. If this is his next step up, I’m not confident about the casualty numbers being low on the next one. He is not somebody to be playing with without having an upper hand somehow.”

“If I can find the next one,” Jackie sighs, “If the trap went off that means somebody got into the area who shouldn’t have, which means the video could be lost.” If it was once again on one of those USB sticks, that would have no way of surviving an explosion.

There goes his chance of finding Stacy in time. . .

The ring of his phone gets both Jackie himself and Henrik to glance to it. Jackie quickly pulls it out, not recognizing the number. Nevertheless, he picks it up, “Hello, this is Detective Jasper.”

“ _Real unfortunate, don’t you think_ , detective?” The voice quickly pushes him even closer to the edge.

Henrik raises an eyebrow noticing how Jackie tenses up instantly. He opens his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by a paramedic calling for him. A glance is given to Jackie before the doctor hurries to help. The other can take care of the call, he needs to do his job that he came for and try to help as many people as possible.

“You’re cocky enough to call me?” Jackie hisses venomously, his grip on the phone tightening, “You know I can trace this call easily.” Already Jackie has made notes mentally to check the number and see if he can trace where it came from and who bought it. Most likely that is a burner phone, discarded the moment this call would be done, but he could still get some sort of information if he can find where the phone came from and/or where it is discarded.

“ _And you should know by now I have ways around that or I just don’t give a shite_ ,” the voice responds, “ _I can tell you it wasn’t supposed to go that way, but that happens when others try to get involved in the game. Shame to see that a few people got hurt. . . including the little Brody kid_.” Jackie swears he can hear a slight echo to the voice, like he is in some large space. . . like a parking garage, “ _At least, from what they have found so far only a few people have gotten hurt. The kid was not meant to be hurt, since the whole thing from earlier that they wouldn’t get involved_.”

He turns, beginning to look around to see if there is any such building around. The killer is nearby, he can see what is going on, "I wouldn't be surprised if you intended him to be nearby despite your empty promise."

" _So untrusting. Do you have any shred of trust in people_ _?"_ Fuck he hates this mockery.

Jackie snarls, "I trust people, just not some bollocks that hides behind a manipulated voice. I trust my family and friends."

The man on the other end seems disinterested, a snort rising, “ _Oh yes, such as the little kid who got hurt. At least_ _he’s in such **capable** hands, huh?_” That is clear mockery, “ _Especially with a doctor who had rumors of murdering his accountant that was never solved. Poor fool tried so hard only to be accused of such malpractice and never having it fully cleared up_.” This man knows too much about his friend group.

“Why don’t you stop hiding and show yourself?! You seem egotistical enough that if you showed yourself, you’d still get away.” Jackie jeers at the man, hoping to get some way to track him down, “Or are you that cowardly?” It is one thing to jab at him, but it is a whole other ballpark to jab at his friends. Everyone knows that the complications with Peter was not Henrik’s fault and the fact Peter died while under the knife was also not Henrik’s fault. The only reason why people tried to paint it as intentional is because Henrik had ran into some financial issues and that was around the time he thought his wife Mina was having an affair with her tennis instructor—which was not wrong but he did not know the truth of it at the time. So many thought Henrik killed Peter since he had been nervous it was his accountant that his wife was cheating on him with. None of that was true, but so many people did not believe Henrik. It took a while for things to settle down enough that Henrik would return to work.

“ _I don’t think so. I’m not your everyday villain, hero boy_.” God, he hates being called that by this bastard, “ _Though looks like you don’t get the next clue which is unfortunate. I always hate when people try to cheat the system._ ”

He waves to a nearby officer, pointing to his phone as a silent way to tell him to track the call. The other nods and pulls out his own cellphone to work on doing so, “I know you intended for that bomb to go off, so why are you playing the card of being remorseful?”

“ _You paint me out to be a heartless bastard_.” He chuckles at this.

“That’s because you are.” Jackie snaps, turning again to continue scanning the area. He knows this place decently well, but not enough to know if there are any parking garages or any place that is an expansive place like a basement that could have such an echo.

“ _I'll ignore that insult this time._ ” He can practically hear the grimace, " _I'll just jot it down that you are getting stressed with work and your godkid getting hurt rather than being a gobshite._ " Still confirms that the killer at least has an Irish accent, which would be useful if they were not in a city full of people with such an accent.

This killer seems to be all about sound and small little things your eyes could miss. Things are either subtle or so obvious one would think it would be a mistake. Perhaps this is the case of being so obvious he is doubting his conclusions.

“ _You won’t find me that easily, Jackie. I’m far out of your reach and by the time you get here I’ll be gone. But don’t worry, as it always goes in the games at the finale we shall met officially_.” There is a small pause, the sound of a car rushing by—definitely a parking place, “ _Hmn, there’s my ride. Why don’t I stay on the line a bit longer so your friend there can fully track this location, huh? Shouldn’t take too much longer._ ” He pauses, Jackie noticing the police officer giving a thumbs up that he has the location.

“ _You have your info now, and I’ve got mine. . . tata for now, hero boy_.” Without giving Jackie the chance to speak up, the line goes dead.

“Fuck!” Jackie curses, fighting off every urge to throw his phone with all his might onto the floor. He turns to the officer that had tracked the location, “Take me there.” Then he turns to another officer, “Call that parking garage and tell them we need all footage from the hours leading up to this explosion. If that bastard has been there all this time, we might be able to catch him or at least get a glance at how he looks.” They both nod, one leading him to the nearby police car while the other pulls out her phone to call the place.

Jackie gets into the passenger side, pulling out his phone and quickly dialing up Chase. He needs to tell his friend now, and there is a few minutes on the drive there.

When the phone is picked up, Jackie feels his gut clench up.

“Yo, Jackie, what you got?” Fuck, Chase sounds so hopeful.

“Chase. . .” Jackie’s voice betrays him, his tone dropping, “You need to go to Henrik’s workplace, alright? He’s heading back there right now. There was. . .” He holds his breath to steady himself. He cannot dance around the truth with his friend, “There was an explosion at the school. Trey was. . . Trey was caught in the radius but he only got his legs hurt.”

“No. . .” The crack in Chase’s voice is a sure sign he is horrified, “Fuck no. . .”

“Chase,” he takes on a serious tone, the kind of tone he would use with cadets when they make a mistake, “I know it’s hard, but you need to be with him. Get Grayson from his school and head there, Henrik will be there and he’ll take care of everything.”

For a few seconds there is a chilling silence, and then Chase answers, “Alright. Thanks.” And then he hangs up.

Jackie leans his head back against the headrest, cursing under his breath. As if things could not get any worse. The only upside of this is it will be much more difficult for the killer to get at Trey if he is in the hospital. Sometimes he needs to look on the bright side of a train wreck, even if it is such a dim light it could be considered to be gone. 

“You going to be okay?” The officer next to him looks over.

Jackie simply sighs, shaking his head slightly while keeping the back of it pressed against the headrest, “Maybe, I don’t know. This guy is exhausting to try to keep up with. If I give up there may be nobody else to match him and then we’re all going to end up dead in his bid for chaos.” He does not even have an iota of an idea what this man wants. He says that he is not the classic villain like the comic books or video games, but he still does not have some goal like other killers. The only thing close to a goal would be just to cause chaos and panic, to uproot the law but even that seems off for the things the killer does. The bastard does not make himself known, keeping in the shadows despite all the death he has caused. Somehow he is not trying to bask in the so-called-glory he gets from outsmarting the police over and over again, in multiple countries, nor making any sort of ransom for the victims. It all just seems to be for fun for this twisted man.

The officer hums to himself, turning on his indicator a few meters before taking the right turn. The building is not too far from the school, but as the guy said on the phone, he would be long gone before they got there, “It’s not your fault that this is happening, you know that sir?”

That is true, but it feels like his failures are just perpetuating this man’s slaughter, “Thanks. It’s hard even so. I may not be the one doing the killing, but it feels like I’m not helping any.”

“You’ve helped more than anyone else and you haven’t given up. I think that’s commendable.” The other offers a smile as he pulls into the parking garage, both seeing a person standing there wearing a rather nice looking suit, “You don’t give up, and that’s something admirable that a whole lot of people could learn.”

“That really means a lot, Oisin.” A smile is given back as he unbuckles and exits the vehicle. Deep blue eyes focus on the person standing in the garage, not a single car in sight, “Do you work here?”

The person nods, “Yes. I’m Alice. I am the owner of this place.” She gestures for them to follow, her expression showing a hint of grimness, “I’m glad you came anyways even before one of your officers called. One of my employee’s car was stolen and our security system was hacked into.” So, the escape car was stolen as well. Not surprising, "I was down here to check on the security guard sent down here to check things out."

But that also means that somebody is working with the killer. Even if it is a temporary, that could be another person who could lead him to the killer. . . if he could find the driver alive that is.

“Good to meet you, Alice, I’m Detective Jasper and this is Officer Cullin.” Jackie gestures to the man accompanying him, “We got word that a suspect in the explosion from the nearby school was here, and most likely the culprit of your hacked systems.” It is part of the M.O of the killer to do something to the security in the area he uses—sometimes even hijacking it to go against them. Always he makes sure they get no sight of his face nor anything that could give away his appearance—the only thing they can see is that he wears a hoodie all the time, his face covered up and is decked out in black head to toe. He is about as tall as Jackie but a few centimeters taller by estimations. It is also hard to see how his upper body is built being hidden by the hoodie but he has mildly toned legs.

“My people are working on recovering the systems, we called in one of our common go-to freelancers to check the system, so he should be here any minute.” Alice quickly checks her phone before focusing on the two, “I’ll take you to the spot where we predict the intruder went.”

Jackie nods, continuing with following her to the spot, which is as expected the bottom floor, “When he gets here, I would like to talk with him and be there as he gets back into the system—we need to see the footage.” Even if it is chopped up, there is still a chance they could get some angle on the killer that will give them some chance of catching him.

Alice nods, taking them down the stairs to the basement, “Of course, I’ll make sure my staff is ready for when we are done here.” She pauses, noticing something off about the area, “Yeah, this would be the spot.” She gestures towards a spot in the basement, something that also gets their attention. She freezes, Jackie and Oisin moving in front of her as protection just in case. When they confirm there is no present danger, they take a closer look into the darkness of the lot. The power must have been cut not too long ago, leaving the area only having the light of the way out illuminating the space.

“Shit.” Oisin grimaces, quickly moving forward to the location, “I think they are dead!” The others join him, Alice stopping a few steps away as the officer checks for a pulse on the side of the neck. The body is positioned oddly, the head jerked to the side despite the body being belly up. It looks like his neck was snapped, the tie and collar covering up a bit of the neck itself.

“Fuck. . . that’s our head security officer!” She moves the rest of the way forward, noticing the large puddle of blood, “Jeez what the hell happened?!”

Jackie moves beside her, noticing the distinct patterns of blood on the body, “Looks like he got stabbed multiple times. . .” It is a nasty bit of stabbings, what looks to be in general about six of them into the chest, and. . . “Oh god.” He covers his mouth.

No matter how many times he sees it, it never gets easier. The signature calling card of the killer is present on the body. The eyes are missing.

“This is definitely his handiwork.” There is no other twisted mind that would do such a thing, no other killer who would use such a calling card.

Oisin glances over to Jackie, eyebrows furrowing, “Could it be a copycat killer?”

An immediate shake of his head is the response, “No. Nobody has tried to copy his M.O. after the one who tried ended up becoming one of the victims.” That was quite the surprise, a video message left with the body, one that gave every bit of information about the person. Somehow the killer could get any information he wanted on a person, even if said person seemed to be completely out of the radar of any police station.

The bastard does not like copycats or competition as well. If he did not take down other killers by murdering them brutally, maybe the police would be happy that he helps. It makes things worse for them with more murders to deal with. Jackie himself would prefer having the other murderers since they would be a lot easier to catch than this guy. At least they did not outsmart the police time and time again to the point they are starting to lose the people's trust.

“I highly doubt this is anybody else.” If only it was, but it will hopefully give him some hints and clues towards finding him, “Oisin, call in another unit. I think Dr. Simmon should see this.” The officer nods in understanding, quickly calling up the station.

Alice puts her phone back into her pocket, focusing on Jackie, “I just got word our programmer is arriving.” She glances over, all three hearing the distant sound of an engine—the tone and volume keying in Jackie to it being a motorcycle. A programmer who rides a motorcycle? “Come on, I’ll take you to the security room to meet him.”

“I’ll stay here for the unit,” Oisin gives a firm nod to Jackie, “Once they are here, I’ll join up with you.” Jackie gives a nod before delivering another to Alice to lead the way. Oisin sighs, running a hand through his hair, “At least I’m not stuck behind a desk.”

Jackie keeps an even step with Alice, taking note of the tire marks on the floor. Most likely the escape vehicle he heard screeching in the background of that phone call. Dr. Simmon will take note of that on his way in most likely. Upon exiting the garage, a motorcycle is noticed, most likely the one of the freelance programmer. It looks well taken care of, the dark metal shining and the green plastic well polished and glimmering in the growing sunlight. It looks like most other bikes of its brand, a few modifications done to add a bit of extra flair, and obviously missing a helmet which makes Jackie frown. Guess the guy wants to break his head open if he gets into a crash.

As they enter the building, there are a few people but most of them are at their desks, bust typing away at their computers. The receptionist gives a friendly smile, Jackie giving a nod hello as they pass. It is what he expected for a company running a parking garage for the businesses nearby. On the quick glance he could see this was a place for mostly employees of those businesses to park their cars so they would not get in the way of customers parking closer to the shops and companies. Not too many people would be needed at desks in a job like this, more of a need for security officers to patrol the levels. Down the hallway in the back is a few doorways, one leading to Alice's office, a breakroom, bathroom, storage and then finally the security office along with lockers for the employees.

And then in the security room, Jackie hesitates as he notices the man sitting in front of the numerous screens, “Uh. . .” The room is mostly small, just enough space to fit the three of them in along with the desk and a large amount of screens. It almost feels like the classic room of a computer master or those cliché depictions in movies.

The man glances over, an eyebrow raised, “Hmn?" His expression brightens as he sees Alice, "Ah, lovely to see you again, Alice.” He gives a rather charming smile to her, “It would be better on a day without some chaotic mess to deal with, but beggars can’t be choosers, eh?”

There is a moment for the detective to double check, for a moment wondering if Seán had a job that none of them knew about or Chase was pulling their legs about not being great at software stuff. However, upon closer inspection this man is not them, a similar look but the slight green tint to the brown hair is a giveaway.

“If only,” Alice sighs, hands resting against her hips, “Looks like this is connected to that incident over at the school.”

“The school?” He tilts his head slightly at this, “So that’s why there’s a whole feck ton of police over there. Unfortunate.” Blue eyes glance over, taking notice of Jackie finally, “Ah where are my manners, nice to meet you in person, Detective Jasper.”

Jackie crosses his arms, raising his eyebrow in curiosity and confusion, “You. . . Huh. I almost mistook you for one of my friends.” No, he cannot be either of them, after taking time to study his face, Jackie knows he could not be Chase or Seán just with the hair down.

The other hums, brushing back a few hairs, “Yes, your friend Marvin explained that when I met him in person.” He suddenly produces a business card, handing it over, “Aneirin’s the name. Not sure how much your friend talks about it, but he hired me for building a computer for another of your friends. How many of you guys are there? He told me there are a whole group of you guys who look similar. And here I thought I had a unique face.” Well, apparently Marvin has left out a lot of information or even telling Jackie anything about this.

When the card is taken, Anierin returns his focus to the screens, beginning to swiftly type, “No system is too complex for me, including the police's mainframe, but that's something I don't do anymore, don't worry.” A sharp grin is flashed to accent the small frown on the detective’s face, “I learned my lesson last time. Besides, I rather enjoy building computers or creating new plugins or apps than hacking into police security."

“Uh huh. . .” Jackie does not fully trust this guy, something about this man makes him unsure. Maybe it is the fact he is another that looks like them, but they have never seen him before—he has not even seen the case of somebody hacking into the database. It could also be the fact he is far too charming to be true, “Well, tell me, can you get in and restore the system enough to get some security footage?”

He needs to go back into the case files and see if there is anything about this Aneirin guy hacking into the database. It can calm his nerves to see if this guy is a problem and also help a small thought crossing his mind. Could this guy help him find the killer? If he is trustworthy enough, maybe he could successfully trace the voice back or pick up on the subtle sounds in the recordings that his own people failed to back trace.

Aneirin hums, typing quickly, “I'll see what I can do. Shouldn't be too hard.” Jackie studies the screens as best as he can, noticing multiple errors flashing on some screens while others show static. Finally, one screen comes up, showing some camera feed, “Ah, not as fecked up as you said it was.” Judging by the shot in the screen the camera was on the second level, being able to get a small glimpse of the number on the wall.

Alice laughs softly, “This isn't my specialty, that's why I hire you.”

“Heh, true. Still, looks like it was just temporarily disabled.” Aneirin never let his gaze leave the screens, switching between them to see which ones are still not working, “Or maybe not. Looking at this one, something has completely corrupted the feed of the cameras in the basement floor. I can't even bring them back up.”

He continues to work, ignoring things around him even as Jackie and Alice start up a conversation.

“How long have you been hiring him?” Jackie cannot take any chances with new faces. It still is odd how he has never seen Aneirin around but others have worked with him.

“A couple of months now,” Alice responds, holding up her hand as her phone buzzes, “We had somebody try to hack into our system and he was the only one who had success in getting it back from the hijacker. He is rather good at what he does.” Too good to be true. It still makes him feel uneasy with how good this guy is with technology. However, there is no chance he can be the killer, not only does he have two blue eyes, but there would be no way he could have gotten away, changed and then came back.

"Were you recommended him by somebody or just happened to find him?" It feels odd to talk about the guy when he is in the room with him, but not a single glance or word was said in objection to their conversation.

Alice types out a message before focusing back on Jackie, "We posted multiple ads for somebody who could recover our systems. Somebody seemed to want to get the information of the businesses we provide parking for, not sure exactly what information they wanted but they locked us out of all our systems. Lost half the information so we had to inform our customers that they needed to change their account information once Aneirin was able to undo the hack. I don't know how he did it when so many others failed, but after that he was our go-to guy."

“I just have a way with technology,” deep blue eyes glance over to the man sitting in the chair, a smug tone to his voice, “And on that topic, I got some feed you may want, detective.” On the bigger screen the feed of a camera takes it up. In the upper portion of the camera sits a car and from the left comes a figure clad in full black. They seem to look around—scanning for others most likely—before shattering the window of the car. Oddly enough no alarm goes off and they make eye contact even with the camera.

What makes Jackie unhappy is the fact he still cannot see their face, the lower part hidden beneath a mask and only a bit of the eyes can be seen. The biggest thing is he does not see the two-toned eyes, just what he thinks is blue. This is the accomplice taking the car. The accomplice seems to be near the same height they predict the killer is but not the right build.

It does not take this person long to hotwire the car and then quickly back out of the spot. Then, just as quick, they are out of the camera’s sight.

“Damn. . . still can’t see the face,” Jackie curses, watching as it flips to another camera. This camera traces the car as it heads to the ramp leading down to the basement level rather than heading straight out to the street on the ground floor.

Aneirin hums, “Real professionals. This may be another helpful one. The main camera in the basement isn’t working, but I was able to pick up the feed of the head security guard’s body cam.” The feed is at chest level, viewing the guard walking over to somebody standing in the middle of the basement. There is something in the man’s hand, perhaps a phone.

“ _Hey, what are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be down here_!” Oddly enough, the man does not say anything, just turning around and looking at him—much like the other guy he is decked out in black and his face mostly covered by a mask and the hood up, “ _I’m only going to ask you once to leave._ ”

Jackie grimaces a bit, knowing what would happen next after seeing the body earlier. Once the guard gets close enough, a knife is pulled out and stabbed deep into his chest. What intrigues him the most is when all six stabs are done and the guard is on the ground, the killer gets close. When near, Jackie’s heart stops for a moment. Those eyes. . . the right eye green and the left eye blue. It is his killer, those intense eyes staring as if he would know Jackie would be watching this feed.

“That’s him.” The words are spoken more than an utter, a shock. There should be no bit of surprise since he had gotten the call and traced it to here, but he can hardly trust anything when it involves the killer. He watches as the mask is pulled down enough for the killer’s mouth to be revealed. Instead of any vocalized words coming out, he moves his mouth as is speaking still, “That’s the fucking bastard.” Another clue? He is not a master of reading lips but he knows somebody who could really help with that.

It is also good to note that the killer has facial hair, being able to see the hair above the lips and trace along the edge until vanishing once again beneath the mask.

“Do you mind putting that part onto this drive?” Jackie holds out one of the spare UBS sticks from the office, “I need to take this back to the station and look it over.” Aneirin nods, taking the device and plugging it into the computer, “I would say give me all the feed from the guard’s body camera and anything you can get from the basement and around the exits.”

“No can do about the exits, those have no feed.” Aneirin confirms, “Looks like they never got fixed after that one guy came in and busted them a few days ago.” That is not a coincidence that they were busted days before this.

Though, he recalls one of the officers talking about that but did not connect it to this place specifically. They have that culprit in custody right now. This could be another avenue to finding out more about the killer.

“Alright, then just what you can get me that involves the stolen car and that man on the security guard’s body cam.” Jackie glances over, noticing Oisin heading down the hallway towards them, “I’ll be right back.” He steps out to meet he officer, his grimace quickly taken notice of.

“Not great news?” Oisin has been working with him for a few hours and already he knows the look of unhappiness. To be fair, the officer is quite keen when it comes to noticing things around him—this is one of the reasons why Oisin had been given a position so quickly out of the academy and doing more than somebody with his experience.

Jackie sighs, “Yeah. As always cannot see enough to get a good look at the guy, but it has been confirmed that he was the one who killed the guard.” He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, shaking his head slowly, “I don't know how he keeps doing these things without having anyone see him.”

“Well. . .” Oisin holds out a slightly bloody stick, “Maybe this will help a bit.” Waiting until the UBS stick is taken, the officer takes out a tissue to clean the blood lingering on his fingers, “Dr. Simmon found this while checking the body. Just. . . it was found in the guard’s throat.”

The detective grimaces in disgust, “Did he try to swallow it?”

“If only. Simmon found a cut across the guard’s neck and the stick was shoved into there.” Oisin shudders, “The worst thing is your name is on it.” He points to the surface, and in plain black letters on the red surface is ‘Jackie’. That would be why it looked like the guy's neck was snapped to make enough room to push the stick in.

The name etched in makes it crystal clear who the stick is for, “I'll have to check this out as well. I've got a bit of feed—well, the programmer lad got some and is currently putting it on another stick.” These physical drives are preferred largely over the clouds or the online drivers just for confidentiality plus it is safer to have it physically where it is harder to take or corrupt unknowingly. There is little bother having more to shuffle through, it is a good distraction from the shite and gives him a better chance of finding Stacy.

Jackie turns, finding Aneirin standing near him, both policemen jumping at the quiet entrance, “All done,” he holds out the stick, grinning, “Free of charge, of course.” As if he would pay for getting evidence, “Should have a good few hours or so of cushioning around the time of the explosion and when the guard was stabbed. If you need any help with that shite, give me a call.” With a wink, Aneirin turns and saunters down the hallway.

Oisin blinks, both pairs of eyes watching the man leave, “Wow, suave and flirty.” He clears his throat at the glance from Jackie, “Should we head back to the station now?”

There is a moment longer of silent observing before Jackie nods, “Yeah, I should get back to work on looking through this evidence.”

* * *

“I understand what you intend, but at the moment—” the doctor tries to explain, the world outside the long line of crystal-clear windows starting to spark into shades of reds, oranges, and dark blues.

She has been trying to reason for a few minutes now, feeling her head starting to throb from the growing headache. Why can people not just simply listen?

“What is going on here?” The new voice in the conversation gets her to jump a bit, turning around to find one of her superiors, “A-ah, Dr. Schneeplestein, I’m sorry this gentleman here is refusing to leave even though visiting hours are over.” She feels nervous, the eyes of the doctor always so stern, so difficult to read what sort of emotions he is feeling.

Schneep glances over to the man in question, sighing out, “It’s fine, I’ll allow it—” he pauses before noticing the other doctor’s expression—a slightly soured and confused one, “—this is a special case. I’ll see to it personally. Shoo,” he gestures for her to leave, ignoring everything else to look to the other.

“Chase, what happened to you? You look like you’ve been through hell and back and not a very successful trip at that.” Schneeplestein quickly ushers his friend from the main room back into the hallways, giving the young child with him a smile, “And how are you doing today, Grayson?” For coming to see his older brother in the hospital, Grayson seems to be off pretty well.

“I’d be better if my brother wasn’t sick,” Grayson lets his shoulders deflate, keeping his hold on Chase’s hand as they walk down the hallways, past various doors with numbers he knows but does not know why they are there. He is not unfamiliar with hospitals, but those visits were when Chase needed to meet up with Henrik. Never have they been in this place for themselves since the youngest Brody child was born.

Schneep offers a bit brighter smile to Grayson, a reassuring sight, “Your brother is very lucky. He only got a minor break to his left leg. You will have to help him out for a few weeks as he recovers, however,” the serious expression lacks the same level of conviction he would give to an adult, “Can you do that for him?”

Sometimes Chase could forget Henrik is good with kids, that his old friend did have children of his own, a few years older than Trey, and the fact Henrik is a few years older than him as well. Both ended up finding their wives early and having kids just as early--Henrik's two kids being twins—but unlike Chase and Stacy, Henrik and his wife continued schooling to get into their professions.

Though, much like Chase, Henrik is dealing with his own marriage problems, specifically a tennis instructor that has a thing for Mina. At least they are at the point that they can return to living together now that Henrik is getting help for his temper and memory loss. More than what could be said for Chase and his wife, especially now.

“I can!” Grayson gives a nod as serious as such a young boy could, “I'll do everything I can to help big bro!”

“I expected nothing less from a good brother like you,” Henrik hums, turning his attention to Chase. His voice lowers enough that it is just the two of them, “Trey will need to stay for a least overnight. His leg is not too bad but I would like to monitor him for the night just in case there could be. . . other problems.”

Chase knows exactly what that means: any mental trauma from what happened. The kid witnessed an explosion, was injured and most likely lost some of his classmates in the explosion, “Did Jackie say it was _that_ bastard?” The response is a solemn nod, “Fuck. . .”

Henrik leads them down another hallway, slowing his steps as they reach the right door, “He doesn't think the explosion was done on purpose to hurt Trey. Before he went back to the station he mentioned something about a _treaty_ between him and the killer. As well, Trey cannot go to school for at least a few weeks, aside from the fact the place will be closed as the police investigate the scene."

“Yeah. . . as long as we don't put the kids into protective custody, Stacy remains okay until the last day and if we don't try to bypass his twisted game, my kids don't get hurt either.” It is all bullshit, but he would do it all to save his family, “If this wasn't intentional, I still wonder if Jackie has to play by the rules.”

Henrik lightly shrugs, knocking twice on the door before opening it up, “We’ll just have to wait and see. Until then, enjoy this time with the kids. I'll leave you to it.” He offers a nod to Trey before leaving the three family members to have their time to be emotional and catch up on the day’s events. He has paperwork to fill out and needs to set up a few other appointments.

No rest for the good it seems.

The doctor enters his office, sighing as the phone starts to ring the moment he steps inside, "Of course. . ." He grumbles a few things under his breath before heading to the desk and picking up the phone, "Hallo, Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein speaking."

"Hello, doctor. You know this was coming, so why don't we sit down and talk."

Truly there is no rest for the good, "Ah. . . ja, I knew you would call. Very well," he takes a seat in his chair, leaning back in it, "Let's get this done and over with quickly."

"Don't worry, I won't take up too much of your time, more than I already have of course."

* * *

Jackie walks through the hallway, dead focused on his mission. Both of the sticks proved to be useful. The one gained from the camera gave him the license plate number of the stolen car, which is being searched for right this moment, and gave him a chance to play back the moment the killer mouths something. There was nothing else helpful on that one since so much had been corrupted and according to Aneirin there is no way to recover it since the company had no desire to set up a cloud prior to this incident nor recover the one they had the first time he was hired. At least now they will be updating their systems for a cloud that would upload all their camera feeds to it for future needs in case something else happened.

It still feels odd to think that this place is targeted so many times when all they did was provide parking for business employees. It could be something to do with the fact it was a parking garage or there is something bigger in the coming times for these businesses. Could the original hacker be the killer?

Luckily, with the recording he was able to send it off to his contact and get the information from the killer soundlessly giving him some information. His contact that could easily read lips said the words are a location, but a rather dangerous one. Rumors spread around in the air and through the grapevine of the town about the series of abandoned buildings at the far end of the city. When things became abandoned, the more nefarious people would crawl in and take over like an infestation.

Unfortunately, but not surprising, the location is one of these places. But some sort of clue is there, reinforced by the message he could decrypt from the second stick found in the neck of the security guard.

“ _I never leave without having a backup plan. . . you should learn this as well. It would be rather helpful for your future, hero boy._ ” In the video he could see a recording of Stacy. She is relatively unharmed aside from the fact she was shaking from fear and tried to get as far away from the camera recording her as possible, “ _You'll have another chance at the location soon enough, but I have to make it difficult. You'll find the information elsewhere in a gift I left you, but you'll have to find the location and know the password. Don't just go barging in, hero boy, I want the pleasure of killing you myself and not let some fool take that from me. See you there. . ._ ” With how many videos he has studied of this killer's, he can notice certain quirks, plus having Chase and Seán talk about their videos and the editing done for their channels. One quirk he could notice is that the audio is added over the video. The way Stacy reacts is not to the words but to the approach of the killer. She does not have many marks on her, most looking to be scratches probably from the moment she was taken, and in the dim light he could see the vague outlines of a bowl and a water bottle. At least she was being taken care of at the moment this video was taken, but he is sure that treatment would be a one-time thing.

With this information, most likely the killer wants Jackie or somebody else to go to this location and there will be the next clue. On the surface it sounds easy, but he knows there is a deeper plot that will make it more dangerous. Not only does he have to find a password to get in unharmed but then finding the location of the clue would be just as hard. At least, there is one step that could be made easier with a currently housed prisoner at the station who could have a link to the killer.

But. . . ‘see you there' gives him a cold chill down his spine. Would that mean the killer would be there personally?

No, he needs to be there himself, do what he can to change himself enough to not be recognized. Perhaps it could be called an unhealthy obsession, but he wishes nobody else to deal with this twisted soul but himself. He needs to be the one to take this bastard down. Which means he needs information and he will get that even if it puts his own life on the line.

Jackie was not a stranger to the odder slew of people who came in from various crimes and would wait for transfer to the nearby prison. Sometimes those people would look so normal one could hardly believe they were capable of nefarious deeds while others where the poster children for crime. Usually, they would be in and out within a few days but delays had caused their most recent arrestee to be stuck with them for a few extra days—though perhaps not the worst chain of events. 

This is the same person who broke the cameras at the garage, which means he could have vital information. He has little doubts this person has some connection to the killer and will most likely have the password to get into the location. Which means his next stop of the holding cells.

“Here,” Oisin hands over a file to Jackie as he makes his way down the hallway, “This is the bit of information we have on this guy. He was caught after smashing the cameras at that place but claims he did it for fun. Not sure that's true.” The officer is on the same wavelength on what could be going on.

Jackie takes the folder with a quiet ‘thank you' before opening and scanning through it. As expected they do not have much but the bane sticks out, “Beejay?” That first name is not quiet what concerns him, it is the surname, “Beejay Pickens. . .” Pickens. That surname is easy to pick up. Everyone knows the Pickens name. The file simply shows a picture of the guy when they had apprehended him and an after shot when he was in the prison garb. Basic information such as weight, height, age and so on was listed along with the reasoning for him being held. As expected, it was 'smashing cameras 'for fun''. Even the officer who wrote this document did not believe it was done for fun. Fun may have been part of it, but that is hardly ever the reason for something involving a Pickens.

“How the feck did we arrest a Pickens?!” He is flabbergasted at this. Oisin gives a small shrug, turning towards the door.

“I don't think he is as good as the head Pickens.” That could be true. Somehow the head of that family could never be convicted of any murders and no matter what happened the man would slip away like he never existed in the first place. This could be another killer down.

Jackie snorts, “If he got caught he is definitely not like the other one,” without another word he opens the door to the interrogation room, noticing the man sitting at the table. Oisin remains outside, guarding the door as another officer lingers in the observation room just in case. 

When he was brought in Beejay was wearing a rather. . . odd attire with a hood and clown makeup on. Now he was wearing the prison uniform and the makeup washed away, making him look like a normal person. It is odd, since this guy does not look too much like the pictures of the head Pickens, a few similarities but it could be seen in his face.

“Hello, Beejay Pickens.” He steps into the room, keeping his expression neutral even as the other observes him, “I know you are in here for property damages, but I want to ask you about something else. If you cooperate I could convince the chief to let you off that charge.” Jackie waits, noticing no expression change. It is not surprise such a thing would be ineffective, most who run with the Pickens leader would be unafraid of jail time and would either end up dead in jail or broken out. So, another approach would be needed, “I would think Jim would be unhappy if he found out you got caught for something simple like property damage.” 

That gets Beejay to tense up and look him in the eyes.

It is a start, “Just imagine being related to such a notoriously illusive killer and getting caught for something so stupid like that. Oh boy, I would never want to show my face around that place if I were in your shoes." The detective pulls out a piece of paper with the address written on it, sliding it in front of the other. From there he leans against the table, forearms resting against the metallic surface, “Tell me what happens at this place and the password to get it and I can make this incident disappear.”

Beejay's frown depends, looking at the address written on the paper, “You sure. . .?” For his size, the male’s voice is soft, a slightly higher pitch, “All of it will be gone if I give you that information?” Poor kid must be starving for attention. Easy to think of with a guardian that is more focused on chaos than his family. There is a portion of the detective that feels bad for the guy and for taking advantage of that attention starved state.

“It will be as if it never happened,” Jackie reassures, even if he is not certain he is allowed to make such deals. It is not as if the chief could yell at him, mostly because there is no chief of police at the moment in this station due to the resigning of the last one.

Even if it turns out to be a lie, it is not like Beejay would know, and he does not seem to be as suspicious as others.

Beejay finally looks up to Jackie again, studying before letting his shoulders relax a smidgen, “That place is used as an exchange, be it for weapons, finding a job or a hitman, specialty items and even people for whatever need of the customer—” most likely his father is the one providing the people, “—but after an incident of a police guy trying to get people in trouble, there is a password required to enter.” He shifts uncomfortably in the chair, eyes darting around.

Leaning in close, Jackie lowers his voice, “What's the password?”

“I. . . I can't tell you. _He_ will know if I tell you. He has eyes everywhere, sees everything.” The young Pickens quickly shakes his head, hands griping at the dark hair.

“Do you mean your father? He has no pull here, he won't know if—” there is not a chance for the detective to finish his thought before hands slam against the table.

“No! Father wouldn't kill me like _he_ would!” Beejay stands up, fear mixing with anger in his brown eyes, "Father would make it quick, but _he_ would make me suffer slowly and painfully!" Could he be referring to. . .? “He had thousands of eyes, always watching as static fills my mind! Father doesn't say it around others, but even he fears _Anti_.”

“ _Anti_?” That is an odd name. No, it must be a nickname. The nickname of that killer, “Tell me the password!” It is Jackie's turn to stand up, blue eyes narrowed, “They will never have to know. No eyes can see in here but us.” He takes a deep breath, calming himself enough to talk in an even tone, "I have multiple people around here, they can see and here us and I know all of them are loyal to the law. None of us will say anything about it to your father or this _Anti_." He has a name now.

This seems to only calm Beejay slightly, but enough for him to sit back down, “I. . .” He hesitates, eyes darting around the room like he is looking for something to jump out at him. Finally, he sighs, “The password is ‘pumpkin spice, glitch in the system'. If you add on ‘It looks like good weather for a pool party' you can get access to the auctions.”

Knowing the killer—Anti, he should be more specific now that he knows a name—Jackie will need access to all parts of the place, “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Two things: stay away from my father when you are there, he knows who you are, and. . .” Beejay looks away, “Can I stay here until you get done? I don't want to face father until you are out of there.”

Odd, but at least that gives him time to figure out what to do about his end of the deal, “Alright,” Jackie gives a nod, “You can stay here until I get my work done. Thank you, Beejay, you've been a lot of help.” Even if it was praise from the enemy, the poor guy seems to soak it in like a sponge taking in water.

Taking up the file, he heads out of the room, meeting up with Oison, “I need to leave tonight. The longer I wait, the worse it gets for Stacy. Keep an eye on things, I'll record what I can but I need you to stay here at the ready,” He takes on a serious expression, watching the frown on Oisin's face stretch and become more prominent, “I know, it's dangerous, but I need to save her. I may have a week to do it, but if this pattern continues, the next clue is going to be the worst to solve and I will need all the time I can get to solve it.”

Oisin sighs, taking a moment before saluting, “I'll hold down the fort, and the first sign of you needing backup, I'll be there with the cavalry.”

At least he is comforted knowing there will be somebody at the ready in case he would get into trouble. Hopefully, it will not be necessary, but it is good to have the backup, “Thanks.” He will need to make a quick stop before heading there, to get a bit of a makeover to disguise himself. If he can change himself enough to not be immediately recognized that would be ideal. The longer it takes to be recognized, the more time he has to find information and perhaps take down some killers, "Take Beejay back to his cell, and give him some nicer food than the last time. He was really cooperative." And part of him feels bad for the guy, "I'll come inform you when I'm leaving for the place."

He needs to make himself out to look different, to look at least mildly villainous and not like his usual self. This is probably going to be his hardest task to date, going into a nest of the most vile and twisted people around. It is all for Stacy and Chase.


End file.
